


Buddy in The Walls

by bittertrees



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Bendy and the Ink Machine Novel: Dreams Come to Life, Dreams Come to Life AU, Other, Psychological Trauma, mild body horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2020-10-17 22:37:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20628689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittertrees/pseuds/bittertrees
Summary: "I'm not Henry. I'm Buddy. I'm not Henry. I'm Buddy."He had to repeat the mantra over and over again. Because he didn't want to forget himself. He didn't want to stop remembering who he really was. He refused to let Mister Drew take his identity from him. Refused to let him turn Buddy into someone else.He refused to become Henry Stein."I'm not Henry. I'm Buddy."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After reading the book, I played around with this idea in my head for a few days. An AU where Joey wants nothing more than to 'recreate' Henry. Plus I definitely wanted to explore more on the Buddy character as well as write something a tad darker than my other fic. Hope you enjoy!

_ You told me to write down my thoughts, Dot. Hone my writing skills along with my art. And I’m doing that now. Just for you. Though I don’t know if you’ll even believe any of what I have to say. I don’t believe it, and it all happened to me.  _

_ I don’t even know if you’re alive. If you’ll ever even find these papers and learn what Mister Drew did to me. What he turned me into.  _ ** _WHO_ ** _ he tried to turn me into. _

_ I used to have so much respect for him. I used to think he was the saving grace that Ma and I needed to have a shot at a better life. To get out of the slums. But I was wrong, so wrong. I paid the price for that. I made you pay the price. _

_ I’m so sorry, Dot. _

\----------

So, that was really it? Buddy wasn’t sure why he expected more. As he and Dot stood there watching the ink from the machine flood into the trap door. Listening to what he presumed to be dying roars of the beast they had just more or less  _ defeated _ . But real life wasn’t like the funny pages of a newspaper. Nor was it like those sitcoms people went to see at the theater. Things sometimes just...ended...on a weird note.

But at least the two of them were safe. They hadn’t been consumed by the ink like the others. Like Sammy. Dave. Norman.  _ Jacob, almost _ . Glancing over his shoulder, Buddy was glad to see his coworker was still breathing. They’d have to get all that ink off of him soon though, at least before he woke up. But Buddy had to wonder if that would even help by that point. Was Jacob just too far gone?

“What are you thinking about?”

He perked up at Dot’s voice. Looking away from the corpses behind him to instead look at the woman. Dot’s own eyes glanced to those behind them. Her face scrunching up before her attention returned to Buddy.

“I’m thinking about how we are gonna explain all of this. What Mister Drew is gonna think…”

Dot scoffed at that “He’s partly to blame for why this happened. Why do you care so much about what he’s going to think? If anything, he should be the one cleaning up this mess, not us.”

She was right. Joey Drew had been the one to invent the ink machine - or at least pay someone else to design and build it before stealing the idea. He was the reason the ink was more or less tainted. Why certain individuals went mad. Why some were dead. But surely Mister Drew hadn’t expected what had just happened! He couldn’t have thought that people would die! The  _ demon _ had been locked up after all, clearly Mister Drew was trying to protect people from his mistakes!

“We should get Jacob out of here. Try and clean him up before he wakes up.” Changing the subject. He knew that was what he was doing. Dot knew it too, based on the way she looked at him. But she didn’t put up much of a fight over it. Letting out a sigh before she gave a nod of agreement.

The pair turned towards their coworkers- one alive and two dead. It sure had been a Hell of a night. Poor Dave. Poor Norman. If they had just been a little faster in getting to them. Maybe they could have...no. Buddy knew that was just wishful thinking. God only knew how long the two men had been missing. They could have been there for  **DAYS** without anyone having lost a wink of sleep over them.

“You get his arms, I’ll get his legs?” Dot questioned. Buddy looked to her, ready to utter a word of agreeance when he suddenly saw the woman’s eyes widen.

“Wha-”

** _CRACK!_ **

He fell instantly. His first thought was  _ ‘I’ve been hit!’  _ which should have been a no-brainer. Because of course he’d been! If the pain racing through the back of his skull was any indication of that. His second thought was asking himself if it was the  _ demon _ that had done the deed. Groaning as he heard Dot give out a shout. Calling his name? No...no he had to clear his head. Had to get up in case it really was the monster from the ink coming after them again.

He tried to push himself up only to be immediately thrust back down by a foot pressing into his back “Stay down, Buddy.” The familiar voice had his eyes going wide. Buddy had to crane his neck so that he could look up at the figure, his heart dropping as he saw their face.

“Mister Drew! What are you doing?” Dot shouted. Their boss turned his attention away from Buddy so that he could look over to the writer. A rather cruel smile was on his face. A sort of  _ feral _ look that Buddy had never seen on the old man before. It was...rather frightening. But that wasn’t going to stop him from getting up. Once more trying to push himself up from the floor. But Mister Drew’s foot remained on his back. For an old guy, he had quite the strength. Or was Buddy just that weak?

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to terminate your contract, Miss Stewart.”

Huh. Finally learned her last name but at such an inopportune time. 

“Mister Drew...you’re hurting him!” Dot cried out. Honestly, Buddy hadn’t realized how much their boss was digging his heel into his back up until Dot had said something. Enough was enough! He wasn’t sure what was going on with Mister Drew, or why the man had cracked him in the head with a dustpan. But he knew he had to get up and stop letting some old timer keep him pinned down.

So with a huff and a groan, Buddy braced his arms and forced himself upward. Mister Drew stumbled slightly, Buddy could even hear him give out a soft yelp in surprise. Had he not expected retaliation? Apparently not, seeing as his foot fell away once Buddy gained enough leverage. But having the upper hand didn’t last for long. His boss recovered quickly, far faster than Buddy. Because a moment later he felt the cold plating of the dustpan hitting him again in the back of the head. That time he saw stars and heard nothing but ringing in his ears. Dot’s shouting barely breaking the surface.

The  _ would-be _ animator fell back to the floor, clutching the back of his head as if that would take away the searing pain that was racing through his skull. He felt something wet on the back of his head. Pulling his hand away and into his line of sight, he could see his fingertips had been stained red.  _ Ouch _ .

The ringing was still strong in his ears. The stars still taking up a good portion of his vision. Buddy’s brain was going into overdrive, shooting off twenty thoughts at once. Twenty things he  **SHOULD** be doing. But his brain failed to send those commands to the rest of his body. Stupidly, all he did was glance up from the floor and catch sight of his boss and coworker. Dot looked to be screaming, if the faint high pitched shouting he heard in between the ringing was really her.

Mister Drew still had that dustpan in his hand, holding it up as he approached the writer and grabbed her by the wrist. And all Buddy could do was watch as his body failed to react..

_ ‘Get up!  _ ** _GET. UP._ ** _ ’ _

He kept inwardly shouting at himself. His entire body shook as his brain tried to make the rest of him move. Dot’s shouting grew louder as the ringing in his ears started to simmer. Eventually the enraged voice of Mister Drew joined in. Though Buddy still wasn’t able to decipher what either of them were saying. Vaguely believing that he heard Dot call his name once or twice.

Whether she did or not, he had to move. His eyes followed the fighting pair. His heart sank as he saw where Mister Drew was trying to lead the woman towards.  _ The trap door! _ Where they had forced the beast to drop into. He wasn’t really going to...no...no, Buddy wasn’t just going to sit and wait to find out. 

He  **FORCED** himself out of his stupor. Or at least tried to. His head ached and his body tried to protest the action. Tried to shut itself down, but Buddy refused. He used his shaking arms to put himself into a sitting position. Then, like a toddler learning how to walk for the first time, he carefully pushed himself to stand. Legs shaking so violently that he almost feared he’d fall again - and he nearly did. Knees buckling and causing Buddy to stumble. But by some grace of God or another higher power, he remained standing. 

Now came the hard part - walking. He had no plan. He didn’t know how he was going to stop Mister Drew when his entire body was a shaking mess. But he just knew he  **HAD** to get to Dot. To at least serve as a distraction so that she could get away.

One shaking foot forward. Then another. Again and again though it never got any easier. Buddy felt as if he were walking through molasses. But his goal kept him going. Mister Drew was too distracted to see him coming. Too busy trying to wrangle Dot towards the trap door. That worked well enough. Buddy was easily able to come up behind his boss and...what…?

He really didn’t have a plan. Later on, he would realize that cost him greatly in the end. Dot briefly looked to him with wide and terrified eyes. Though brief it was, Mister Drew still caught sight of it. Whipping his head around to see Buddy standing there. Just  **STANDING** there. Like a bystander who was only in it to watch how the disaster played out. But he couldn’t be one of those people. He had to act. He had to do something.

So he did. A shaking hand balling into a fist and striking out. Buddy was not a man of violence, he liked to avoid it when he could. But now was not one of those times. Not when they were all teetering on the edge of the trap door. His fist collided with Mister Drew’s face. It was a weak punch, in all honesty. Buddy didn’t have the strength to put as much force as he wanted to behind it.

Another thing that cost him.

Mister Drew’s initial response to the  _ attack _ was to blink. The three of them falling into silence. Buddy really should have followed up on his initial punch. Maybe that would have done them all better in the end had he just thrown one more or even kicked his old boss to the ground. Because after that brief moment of silence, Mister Drew  **LAUGHED** . Laughed like a mad man. The sound coming deep from within him. So low and terrifying that it sent a chill up Buddy’s spine. No doubt it sent one up Dot’s as well.

The laughing served as a good distraction. Buddy was so taken aback by the sound that he didn’t even take notice to his boss reeling back his hand. The dustpan hitting Buddy a  **THIRD** time. But now it was to the side of his head. For an old man, Mister Drew had a mean swing. Sending Buddy spiraling onto the ground again. Making the young man feel like even more of a failure.

He  _ beat  _ a grotesque monster made of ink and yet couldn’t do anything against some old man. It was rather sad. The ringing in his ears was back and on top of that he felt nauseous. He was close enough to Dot to hear her yell his name. By the time he looked up though, she was gone. Mister Drew standing by the edge of the trap door. Buddy thought he heard a  _ splash _ come from it. His heart filling up with dread. The thought of Dot being down there with...with that  ** _THING_ ** . He could still help her! He could!

A pathetic whimper slipped passed as he tried to crawl to the edge of the trap door. He didn’t get far though. The heel of Mister Drew’s shoe dug into his back once more. Buddy was too dazed to throw the old man off again. But that didn’t stop him from at least trying. Clawing at the ground and trying to thrust his body forward. Mister Drew gave a low chuckle in response to Buddy’s actions.

“Miss Stewart will be missed. Hell of a writer.” His words barely cut through the surface of the constant ringing. Buddy glanced up and tried to muster up a glare. No doubt it looked pitiful on his face. But God, did he try. 

It hurt to look up and see the man he once respected look like such a monster. That feral glint still shining in Mister Drew’s eyes. Was Buddy next on the chopping block? Would he soon be joining Dot in the abyss that was the ink filled trap door? That thought was...frightening. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want his Ma or his grandfather wondering what happened to him. Because it was doubtful Mister Drew would tell them any sort of truths.

“But I’m afraid she had no further part in this story. Not like you.” His foot was still lodged into Buddy’s back. But that didn’t stop the older man from kneeling down and putting the entirety of his weight into the small of Buddy’s back. It caused the  _ would-be _ animator to wince “I knew the first time I saw you that there was potential there. And I was  **RIGHT!** I always am.”

Potential? As an animator? That was what Buddy had hoped to be when his entire venture at Joey Drew Studios started. He wanted to draw. Make cartoons. Make people laugh! But all he’d done so far was pass his grandfather’s drawing off as his own  **AND** stumble upon some weird supernatural ink nonsense. He should have just stayed a suit delivery boy in the slums.

A hand was placed on top of his head. Soon enough his boss was patting him. As if he were a dog that was being  _ praised _ for being a good boy. It was demeaning. And only served to fuel the fire that was building up inside of Buddy. Some of his senses were starting to come back again. The ringing once more dying down and stars starting to fade. But Mister Drew knew better now than to let Buddy fully recover. Or to even let him get up again.

“Don’t worry, Henry. We’ll get you back over to the studio soon enough.”

_ What?  _ “Hen-?"

** _CRACK!_ **

For a fourth  _ (and hopefully final) _ time, the dustpan came down on his head. Buddy didn’t understand how, but the hit was delivered with far more force than the first three. No ringing or stars to be found. Just complete darkness as Buddy’s consciousness finally left him.

\----------

_ I never did see if he actually pushed you into the trap door. For all I know, you could have gotten away after Mister Drew hit me. It’s wishful thinking, Dot, I know. You’d tell me that I was just looking for the best out of a crappy situation. _

_ And you’re right. _

_ I want to believe you’re still out there. Away from the studio. Away from...this. I don’t want Mister Drew getting ahold of you too. I don’t want him trying to make you someone you’re not. Whether it’s a toon or some old employee he had an attachment to. _

_ I don’t want you to end up like me. I don’t want you asking yourself if you’re still Dot.  _

_ Because God knows that I’m not Buddy anymore. _

\----------

His head was on  **FIRE** . Not literally, but it was in such pain that it might as well have been. He was also cold, dreadfully so. Shivering as he felt a draft pass by. Slowly Buddy started to come to some form of his senses. The events from before he’d been knocked out catching up to him. And oh, when they did, he surged forward so fast that he nearly choked himself.

_ Wait. Choked? _

Immediately Buddy’s body was pulled back. The young man letting out a strangled cry. Looking in from the outside, one would compare him to a wild animal that was trying to escape the zoo. And perhaps that was what he was. His eyes were wide and he looked around him. Finally feeling something cold that was pressed up against his neck. Buddy raised a hand to it and felt his heart rate  **TRIPLE** in it’s pace as it hit him just what it was. Or what it  **FELT** like it should have been.

A collar. A damned collar. Or something pretending to be one. Made of cold material that was  _snugly_ wrapped around Buddy’s neck. Pulling his hand back, he saw tiny droplets of ink stain his finger tips. Was it...made of  **INK?** Attached to the collar was a chain. Craning his neck upward, Buddy could see where the chain connected to the wall. It was such a short length that Buddy could barely move around without nearly choking himself again. 

But that wasn’t even the most startling part. As more and more of his senses came back, he started to find more things out of place. Looking down at himself, he could see that he wasn’t wearing a single article of clothing, save for his undergarments. If Buddy hadn’t been in such a panic, he might have blushed. It did explain though why he’d been so cold.

But just...why? Where were his clothes? Why was he chained to a wall? More importantly - where the Hell was Mister Drew? Such thoughts raced through Buddy’s head and he wasn’t even sure which ones he wanted answers to first. 

“You’re awake, finally.”

The voice caused him to jump. Turning his head so fast that he pulled the chain taut by accident. Another strangled yelp left him, Buddy quickly leaned back against the wall behind him so as to take the pressure off his neck. At the angle he was at, it was hard to see the one other person in the room. Buddy straining to use his peripheral vision to try and take in the sudden  _ newcomer _ .

From the corner of his eye he could see the man wore a white coat, like those doctors at the hospital. It looked as if he were standing in front of some table. What was on that table, Buddy hadn’t a clue. At his angle, he wouldn’t be able to tell. And honestly, the thought of what  **COULD** be over there rather frightened him.

“Let’s get this exam over with. Mister Drew will want to see you as soon as possible.”

The man finally stepped into view. Now able to see him more clearly, the man most definitely looked to be a doctor. But why would a doctor... ? Oh, the infirmary. He forgot that was a thing in the studio. Was the man before him the sole doctor that worked in that cramped space? Was Buddy in the infirmary right now?

Taking in as much as he could of the room - he found the answer to be  _ no. _ What he could see of the room, it was mainly just empty space. The only sort of furniture most likely just being the table he could see from the corner of his eye. Why did it feel so familiar?

“Who are you?” Was the first thing to come from Buddy’s mouth. 

The doctor seemed to quirk a brow. There was a twitch at the side of his mouth as well. Did he find Buddy’s question  _ amusing? _ Buddy for the life of him couldn’t figure out what was so funny. Nonetheless, the man answered his question.

“Dr. Hackenbush.”

“And you-?”

“Run the infirmary from time to time, yes.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that.” Buddy responded with slight irritation in his voice. Even though his head was pounding and his thoughts were all over the place, he knew how to put two-and-two together “What am I doing here? What...what is this?”

He pointed to the collar on his neck. A contraption that was already starting to irritate the skin that rest beneath it. Buddy wanted nothing more than to rip it off and toss it in a corner. But it was doubtful that  _ escape _ from the thing would be so easy. Even if it was made from a liquid like material such as ink. Buddy had learned fast not to trust the stuff when it came to that studio.

The amusement from before left the doctor’s face, instead giving out a sigh. Did he not expect Buddy to ask such questions? What else was there to talk about when one woke up in a room chained to a wall?  “Those are things for you to ask Mister Drew about when you see him later.” Was the response he received. The doctor was about to continue, but Buddy was quicker on the draw.

“Mister Drew brought me here? But...but why? Where is Dot? Does he have her here too?”

He could have kept going if the doctor hadn’t kneeled down and placed a hand over his mouth. The older gentleman had the sort of face that screamed  _ shut it and listen _ . And so Buddy did, for now. Mainly because he was in no position to be acting out.

“Ask Mister Drew when he sees you. Not me. I’m only here to make sure he didn’t beat in your brains.”

The hand fell away from Buddy’s mouth. Once it was clear the younger man was going to remain silent, the doctor got to work. He had Buddy lean forward as much as he could without choking himself. Buddy would wince every time the other poked at the spots where Mister Drew had struck him. The doctor mumbling to himself about the injuries the entire time.

Though even with him muttering into Buddy’s ear, the younger could barely figure out what he was saying. Something about a  _ gash _ . Stitches. Not having time. Even with the little he heard, it was enough to unsettle Buddy. If he had a serious injury, shouldn’t they be taking him to a hospital? 

“Don’t know how he expects me to work with this. I deal with animals for heavens sake.” The doctor uttered as he pulled away, letting out a huff as he made his way back to the table in the far corner. Worked with animals? Was he being treated by a  **VET? ** Buddy opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut when the door to the room opened. His eyes darted to the entrance, rather grateful he could actually see it. Immediately his heart sank as he took notice of who was standing there.

_ Joey Drew. _

Buddy pressed himself up against the wall behind him. His eyes taking notice of how his  _ boss _ had his hands behind his back. He did not want to be hit with a dustpan for a fifth time. From how it sounded, Buddy already took enough damage from the first few smacks. And the fact that Mister Drew was  **SMILING** . As if he were a little kid that had gotten to pick out a new toy. It was unsettling.

“He’s awake! Not in too much pain I hope.”

It took Buddy a moment to realize that Mister Drew was addressing him and not the doctor. Though the realization didn’t mean he was going to answer the question. Electing to ignore it as he instead went into questions of his own. Things he  **HAD** to know.

“Where’s Dot?” He was in a pickle right now, that was plain as day. But in that moment he cared more for what had happened to his friend. 

His question though did not amuse Mister Drew. The older man’s smile dropped into a deep frown. A look of sheer disappointment crossing his face. Had it been a week ago, Hell, even just one day before, Buddy might have felt shame for causing Mister Drew to feel that way. But now? Now, he didn’t care.

“How is his head?” The older man didn’t even acknowledge Buddy’s question. Now electing to ignore him as he turned his attention toward the doctor. The man’s tone dropped to an octave that was far darker than Buddy had ever heard before.

“You did a number on the boy. He needs stitches. He needs a  **HOSPITAL** .”

Finally, someone talking a bit of sense! But  _ sense _ was not something Mister Drew had. The man’s deep frown somehow getting deeper. He shook his head before waving in the direction of the doctor and his table.

“You have the tools to do that. You’ve given stitches to dogs and cats before haven’t you? Why not him?”

“The wound you gave him is a bit deeper than what I’ve seen on a blasted animal, Drew! What do you hope to gain from keeping this boy here? If you don’t want word getting out about your  _ pet _ , then just kill the boy and be done with it! Don’t waste my time with things like this.”

_ Ouch. _ Buddy was starting to sweat as his eyes darted back and forth from the two men. The doctor had moved to be right in front of Mister Drew. The pair of older men practically staring daggers at one another. One wanted him dead to save on time and the other...well...he honestly wasn’t sure what Mister Drew wanted with him.

“Who signs your paychecks, Hackenbush?”

“Your secretary using that little name stamp you gave her.”

“...Fair point. Either way, I am  **PAYING** you to keep my employees in top shape, not to argue with me. And I’d ask you to refrain from speaking of that  _ thing _ any further.”

Once again the room fell into silence. The pair just glaring at one another, seeing who would crack first. But it seemed Mister Drew had far more resolve than the doctor. Hackenbush letting out an aggravated huff before making his way toward the door.  “I need some supplies. Don’t break him any further and give me even more work.”

They watched Hackenbush leave. Once the man’s footsteps faded, Mister Drew closed the door and looked back to Buddy. That unsettling smile from before was back. 

“Where’s Dot?” Buddy asked again.

And once more he was ignored. Though that time Mister Drew did not wipe the smile from his face. Instead holding his right hand up to reveal a pair of clothes he’d been carrying around since entering the room. A blue dress shirt and a pair of black trousers. Clothes that looked far nicer than anything Buddy himself could afford.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions. And we’ll get to them over time. But how about we make you decent first?” Mister Drew approached him, soon coming to kneel down in front of Buddy. The man tried to feign a kind smile, but Buddy could see the true meaning behind those upraised lips.

_ Mister Drew looked demented. _

“Your old clothes were hanging off you like rags, old friend.”  _ Old friend? _ “So you can understand that I had to get rid of them. Here, these are nice and fresh.”

They smelled it too. The clothes were transferred into Buddy’s hands. He could smell the soap that was used to clean them. But the fact they had been washed didn’t completely mask the slight musky scent that radiated off of them when Buddy put his face too close. 

It was easy to slip into the shirt. Though Buddy couldn’t button it up all the way, not with the bulky collar in the way. The trousers were another story. He couldn’t stand to put them on, having to practically shimmy his way into them. The whole process was odd. Made even more uncomfortable by the fact Mister Drew just kept eyeing him.

“You’ve grown!” The older man chuckled. His statement made Buddy quirk a brow. He didn’t feel any taller “It doesn’t completely fit, but it’ll do for now.”

Looking down at his new attire, he took note that his  _ boss _ was right. The cuffs of the shirt sleeves only went down to his mid forearm. Meanwhile the bottom of the shirt went clear past his waist. Almost as if the previous owner had a long torso but stubbier arms. And the trousers, God, they only served to remind Buddy just how  _ lanky _ he was. The bottoms of the trousers just barely going passed his knees. 

“You always did have some odd proportions, Henry.”  There it was again.  _ Henry _ . It was the third time the other had called him that. The  **SECOND** time within the past few hours. If only a few hours had passed from the time he’d been knocked out to now. 

“Why are you calling me that?” He asked. And for once, he got a response to one of his many questions.

“Well that’s your name isn’t it?” If Buddy would have blinked, he wouldn’t have seen the slight twitch at the corners of Mister Drew’s mouth. The way his eyes bore into him. 

“Mister Drew, you know who I am. I’m...I’m Buddy, remember?”  He thought the other had hit his head. Or just gone completely mad. A lot had happened in the past day or so. That whole party with those high class types. The thing with that ink-like beast. Though really that should have had more of an effect on Buddy’s psych rather than Mister Drew’s.

The room fell into yet another round of silence, but it was one that didn’t last long. Mister Drew’s smile fell back into a frown. Only instead of looking disappointed, he looked,  _ mournful _ . Shaking his head before letting out a sigh. As if he were about to deliver bad news to someone who really didn’t need to hear it.

“I’m afraid Buddy is dead.”

_ What? _

He stared at his former boss in disbelief. Because had he just  **REALLY** heard that? Heard the other state that he was dead? Unless he’d died and gone to a Hell that looked like the studio - he was one hundred percent positive he was still kicking and breathing.  _ Alive! _

“I’m not dead. I’m right here!” Buddy argued. It annoyed him when Mister Drew simply shook his head again and made a  _ tsk tsk _ sound. 

“Henry, you obviously took quite a hit-”

“Because  **YOU** hit me!"

“But even I know it wasn’t hard enough to jostle your brain that much. Don’t you remember? Buddy, the poor boy he was, worked himself too hard. Too much. He passed away at his desk.”

He most certainly did not! What sort of game was Mister Drew playing? Did he really think acting like Buddy was dead would suddenly make it a fact? Did he think Buddy would simply play along? The boy thought himself as one to keep a cool head under pressure, but in that moment, he was quickly losing his patience. 

“What are you talking about? Mister Drew, I am  **NOT** Henry.” Not that he thought saying as much would truly get through to the clearly crazed man “I’m  **BUDDY** . Daniel!”

He could see his words had angered the other, though to Mister Drew’s credit, he kept a straight face. Eyeing Buddy up and down with a glint in his eyes that screamed displeasure. And when he spoke, his voice dropped a few octaves again. Only now it served to send a chill up Buddy’s spine.

“For now you are. But we’ll fix that.”

The words were so ominous. Buddy actually felt a strong sense of  **FEAR** hit him. He didn’t know whether to count Mister Drew’s words as a threat. He wasn’t even sure what the other was  _ threatening _ to do. Or why he was continuing to keep him there in the first place! 

Mister Drew soon rose to his full height, eyeing Buddy once more before turning in the direction of the table off in the corner. Buddy kept his eyes on the man for as long as he could, soon having to rely on his peripherals to track the other’s movements.

“We’ll fix it indeed.”

His former boss grabbed something off the table, something small. Buddy didn’t know what it was until the other was back in front of him again. Buddy’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the prepped syringe in Mister Drew’s hand. A clear liquid  _ sloshing _ around inside of it, though Buddy hadn’t a clue what it was. But it no doubt spelled trouble. 

Kneeling down before him again, Mister Drew’s free hand shot out and grabbed hold of Buddy’s wrist. The  _ would-be _ animator tried to pull away almost immediately, but once again the old man proved his strength. A tight hold was kept on his wrist, his arm pulled forward with the underside showing. Mister Drew was pulling on him so hard that Buddy’s entire body was forced forward, gagging slightly as the collar pressed against his throat.

“I think it’s time you take your lunch break, Henry. But don’t be gone too long. We have dreams to turn into reality after all!”

Before Buddy could react, the needle was being pushed into his arm. The stinging liquid it held seeping into his body. By the time he realized what was going on, it was too late. Instantly he felt light headed. His vision becoming blurry. His thoughts going in twenty different directions. His brain simply calling for him to sleep.

Mister Drew released his arm and helped to lean him back against the wall. And as Buddy’s vision was slowly overtaken by darkness, one thing remained clear as day:

_ That damned smile. _


	2. Chapter 2

_ My name is Daniel Lewek. My friends call me Buddy. _

_ ______ _

_ I live _____ with my Ma and grandfather ____ _

_ ________ _

_ ________ _

_ My name is Daniel Lewek. My friends call _____ _

_ My name is ____ _

_ I live with ______ _

** _M Y N AM E IS HEEEN RY SSSSTE IIIIN._ **

_ ____ _

_ ____ _

_ ____ _

_ I’m sorry you had to read that mess of a page, Dot. I’m sure the ink stains didn’t make it any easier. And I almost ripped the page with that last bit. Don’t pay attention to that by the way. I sometimes ___ _

_ Sometimes I forget. Sometimes my hand just has a mind of its own. Or like someone else just takes over. I know it’s not  _ ** _him_ ** _ . That would be impossible. I know it’s just me. But a different me. A person that Mister Drew wanted me to be.  _

_ I really hate Mister Drew. _

\----------

The next time Buddy woke up, his head hurt slightly less. It was still throbbing and was far from being something he could just outright ignore. But it was at least the tiniest bit more tolerable. Reaching his hand back, the tips of his fingers ran over the patch of shaved hair that had been created around the wound he’d acquired. The now stitched up wound. The string from the stitches catching his attention once his fingers rang over it. That was at least one thing taken care of. No more having to worry about bleeding out from a dustpan inflicted laceration.

He was still on his short  _ leash _ though. His back ached from the position he’d been forced to  _ rest _ in. If being drugged with some strange medication could count as resting. He hadn’t dreamt anything. Not even had the inkling of a nightmare. It was all just dark. And he had only been bathed in that darkness for what felt like a few seconds before he woke up again. But Buddy highly doubted he’d been out for such a short amount of time. He really wished there was some sort of clock in there. 

Though he didn’t think he’d been able to see it even if there was one. Damn collar and chain. Reaching his hand up, he felt up the collar. Clearly made of ink, seeing as the thing stained his fingertips whenever he’d pull away. Buddy tried to snake one of his fingers under the collar, but it only served to make the ink tighten around his neck.  **THAT** startled him. Buddy’s hand recoiling back in surprise. The inky collar remained tight against his neck for a few moments longer, starting to make it difficult to breath. But as a minute or so passed and it was clear Buddy wasn’t going to try and tug at it again, the collar started to loosen.

Did...did the thing have a mind of its own? Why should he be surprised by that though? He’d seen the ink from the studio try and ooze off the page of a piece of paper! He’d seen it  _ crawling _ across his grandfather’s body. The stuff reacting to him trying to pull it away was only...natural. For the ink...he guessed.

For Buddy it was like having a curse placed on him. Like those princesses in the fairy tales. Trapped and left degraded by their ugly stepmothers or evil witches. Only  **HIS** ugly relative was instead his former boss. And while princesses usually knew why they were left in a dungeon, Buddy hadn’t a clue what he did to deserve his imprisonment.

At one point he would have guessed it was because of his knowledge of that...mockery of Bendy. That creature from the theater. But Dot had seen it too and she was supposedly dead, all from Mister Drew’s hands. If his former boss didn’t want word of that thing getting out, why had he kept Buddy alive? Why go to all the trouble of keeping him under lock and key?

Something to do with Henry, no doubt. The thought had crossed his mind a few times of just  **WHAT** exactly Mister Drew wanted, but Buddy kept trying to push it away and remain in denial. He didn’t want to think the older man was so demented as to...as to make Buddy someone else. As to try and get his old business partner back through him. No.  **NO!** Clearly there had to be more to it.

There had to be. 

The door to his  _ prison _ was soon opened. Buddy wasn’t sure whether to feel dread or relief when he saw who walked in.  _ Mister Drew _ . On one hand, with the old man there, it was a chance to ask more questions and try to get something out of him. But on the other hand, he would once again be vulnerable to whatever his former boss had planned.

“I see you spent your lunch break sleeping again, Henry.” There it was. That name “Must I always be the one to take care of you? Honestly, we aren’t children anymore, old friend.”

Mister Drew laughed and the sound did nothing more than bring a scowl to Buddy’s own face. He hated that sound now more than ever. Hated how condescending it was. As if Mister Drew were rubbing it in his face that Buddy was trapped and had no chance of escape. That he had the young man in the palm of his hand. 

“I didn’t really have much of a choice about going to sleep.” He responded, and expected to receive a volatile reaction. But Mister Drew surprised him by letting out another bout of laughter. Coming to stand in front of Buddy before kneeling in front of him. It was only then that Buddy realized the other was holding a bowl.

“I know. I work you too hard sometimes and you miss your sleep. Or perhaps it’s just that battleaxe, Linda, who is keeping you up at night. Honestly, I don’t know what you see in her.”

He didn’t know who Linda was, and he didn’t ask. Assuming it was just someone that the real Henry cared about. And no doubt wouldn’t like hearing being referred to as a  _ battleaxe _ . Hell, Buddy didn’t know the woman and even he was annoyed with how Mister Drew talked about her. But perhaps he was just tired of hearing his former boss talk overall.

“And unlike her, I’ve brought you something of substance to eat. You’re turning into skin and bones!” The old man playfully poked at Buddy’s side. Buddy’s immediate reaction was to slap the hand away. Mister Drew didn’t seem to mind as he placed the bowl down between them, giving the younger man full view of the contents that rest inside.

And...oh God. Did the contents make Buddy’s stomach lurch.

Bits of potato remaining stagnant in the liquid. Flakes of what  **MIGHT** be seasoning poking out. And what was no doubt meant to be the  _ broth _ , wasn’t broth at all. At least it didn’t look to be. It was black. Pitch black. Buddy couldn’t even see the bottom of the bowl and when he grabbed the spoon and swirled the liquid around, it proved to be incredibly thick.

“This will help get you back in  _ tip-top _ shape in no time! Has all the essential nutrients or whatever it is that the poster in the infirmary goes on about.”

He didn’t want to eat it. The grimace on his face should have made it obvious. And the longer they sat there and went without Buddy even attempting to eat the  _ soup _ , the more Mister Drew’s smile started to fade. Soon enough it was a full blown scowl with an expression of impatience.

“Now Henry-”

“Buddy.”

“-I went through a lot of effort to make this for you. Moved some meetings around. Had to cancel that appointment with the puppet guy. All very important things and all for  **YOU** . And now you won’t even try the soup?”

Was that meant to make him feel guilty? It didn’t. Maybe if it had happened a week ago, but not now. Not when everything Mister Drew did clearly had an ulterior motive. Even something as simple as making a bowl of odd looking  _ soup _ . 

“I don’t have all day, Henry.” His former boss spoke up, picking up the bowl and snatching the spoon from Buddy’s hand. The older man scooped up a large portion of the  _ soup _ . So much that it was oozing off the spoon and nearly made Buddy hurl. It somehow looked even more distasteful than it had just sitting in the bowl “Now  **EAT** .”

The spoon was thrust in his direction. Pressing against his tightly shut lips. Buddy could feel the  _ broth _ running down his chin as the overfilled spoon lost its contents. Mister Drew didn’t relent though, even as more and more of the  _ soup _ was lost, he continued to press the spoon against Buddy’s lips. So much pressure being applied, it started to grow painful. Buddy would have kept his mouth shut tight all day if he could. But Mister Drew’s patience had run thin and he was through playing games.

Setting down the bowl and freeing a hand, he latched onto Buddy’s jaw and pressed onto it in such a way that the younger’s mouth practically  **SNAPPED** open. That gave Mister Drew the chance he needed to shove the spoon as far as he could into the back of Buddy’s mouth. Once the contents had left the spoon, the utensil was pulled back and the hand clutching Buddy’s jaw loosened. Just enough to readjust and force the younger to close his mouth.

“Now stop being so picky and chew.”

Buddy didn’t have much of a choice anymore. Not with that way Mister Drew continued to hold his mouth closed. Plus just letting the  _ soup _ contents sit there was starting to make him gag. He tasted the bit of cut up potato - it was bland. The attempt at  _ spicing _ up the soup had been poor as Buddy could barely taste it. All he could taste was that black  _ broth _ . That disgusting...foul…

Oh...oh God.

His foot kicked out and knocked over the bowl. The rest of the  _ soup _ spilling out and coating Mister Drew’s shiny shoes. The older man recoiled back, taking the pressure off Buddy’s jaw and allowing the younger to spit the contents of the  _ soup _ out of his mouth. 

“Ink! You...you tried to feed me ink!” Buddy shouted, using the back of his hand to wipe away the ink that clung to his lips and chin. Though all that accomplished was smudging the liquid across the bottom of his face. Not that such a thing was his concern at the moment. No, his true concern was the fact that  _ tainted _ ink had been in his mouth. That he had  **TASTED** it. 

That same ink...that ink had driven Sammy insane. He had no proof of that, but he had a pretty big hunch that the ink played a part in the music director’s decline. He’d even caught glimpses of the other ingesting the stuff. Buddy didn’t want to be like that. He didn’t want to crave ink and chug it down like a last beer at happy hour.

“No, I tried to feed you soup.” Mister Drew growled, inspecting his now ruined shoes before his disapproving eyes fell onto Buddy “But what else should I have expected from this? You were also so ungrateful, Henry.”

“Are you kidding me?” The younger was practically in hysterics. His voice rising several octaves as he tried to process what had happened. Would just having the stuff in his mouth poison him? Would getting that little bit of taste make him crave it like Sammy had? 

“Clearly you need more time to think and realize that this studio we created won’t hold up if you continue to act so...uncooperative. Honestly, Henry. I expected more from you.”

Mister Drew picked up the bowl and spoon, standing at full height and saying nothing more until he got to the door. He glanced over his shoulder, eyeing Buddy up and down before uttering “Perhaps a few days to yourself will make you more grateful.”

And with that, he left. The door closed shut and the little  _ click _ from a lock being the only sound Buddy heard. The only interaction he’d have for days walking right out the door.

\----------

_ I hate to admit that it was the stepping stone to breaking me. I hate the fact I couldn’t hold out longer or that I couldn’t think of anything better to do. My head still hurt. I was starving. And when he put that bowl in front of me again. _

_ ____ _

_ ____ _

_ If it had been you, Dot, you would have held out longer. Or come up with someway to escape. You would have done more than just sit there and take whatever Mister Drew did to you. And above all else, you wouldn’t have eaten the ink. _

\----------

When Mister Drew made a threat, he made a  **THREAT** . Buddy didn’t know how long he’d sat there for. Sat there with an increasingly pained and throbbing head. An aching back. Little sleep and an empty belly. He didn’t feel any cravings for ink, and he thanked his lucky stars for that. Though if his lucky stars were working, he wouldn’t be in his current situation. Tired and starving and in pain.

No one ever came by. Not Mister Drew. Not even that vet guy. Not a single soul checked up on him. He didn’t even hear any voices outside the door that he could call to. And over those days, he realized just why he never heard anyone and why no one ever came to him. Though the short chain didn’t give him much in the ways of looking around, with time to kill, Buddy made any effort to at least get some inkling of his surroundings. Craning his neck in different directions. Using his peripheral vision to the max, so much so that his eyes would start to hurt if he strained them for too long.

But eventually he realized where he was. Though seeing it basked in some light was far different than seeing it shrouded in darkness. 

_ That demon’s room. _

Where they had kept it hidden. Where he’d accidentally released it. He was being kept locked up in the same place that deformed Bendy copy had been kept in. Only now it was sans one giant creepy looking demon thing. All that was left was Buddy and a table full of what he could only assume were medical supplies. 

It unnerved him to be there. A tiny fear that the creature had survived its fall in the trap door and would return to its former abode. There had been no guarantee that what he and Dot had done had actually killed it, after all. And Mister Drew gave no hints that the thing was gone. Though he also didn’t seem to like talking about it  **AT ALL** .

So there he sat. Tired. Starving. A hint of fear now there. Left with his thoughts to go over the many possibilities of how he could die in that room. That inky demon was one way. Starving was another. Mister Drew coming in with a buzzsaw was lower on the list and honestly, Buddy wasn’t sure how that possibility had even come up in his brain.

But the going hungry scenario was the most likely. That or dying from lack of water. Buddy’s throat was so dry and he craved nothing more than a drink. His lips were starting to chap due to how stuffy the room was. The nice clothes he’d been given reeked of sweat. It was miserable.  **HE** was miserable. And sitting there alone made him retreat into his thoughts more often than not.

What were his Ma and grandfather doing? Did they think he was dead too? Mister Drew had tried to pass off that  _ Buddy died _ lie on him. No doubt he’d tried to spread that to others as well. Though how could he tell them that Buddy died at his desk if there was no body to go with it? Unless…

He really hoped Mister Drew didn’t have a way of procuring dead bodies. That thought made him shudder.

Just as the supposed days went by and Buddy thought dehydration or starvation would take him, a soft  _ click _ was heard. Buddy’s eyes shot open and immediately went to the door. Watching as it creaked open and no one other than a smiling Joey Drew stepped through. Buddy didn’t have it in him to glare or scowl. Especially not when he saw the glass of water in the man’s left hand. That had Buddy sitting straight up. 

“I’m glad I caught you while you’re awake.” The older man laughed, using his foot to close the door behind him seeing as both hands were full. Buddy didn’t miss the bowl that was being held in the man’s right hand. Frowning as he had little doubts as to what the contents were.

But the water.  _ The water! _

“I think last time we both said and did things that we didn’t mean. Mainly you.”

_ ‘I meant every word.’ _ Buddy thought, but didn’t utter out loud. He didn’t want Mister Drew to leave. Not when it seemed as if the man may give him some reprieve from his dry throat and hungry belly.

“And for all you did, I forgive you, Henry. Which is why I came to make amends. Here.” Mister Drew knelt before him again and held the water glass out. Buddy eyed the man’s face. He held a kindly smile, for once nothing about it seemed malicious, and yet he didn’t trust it. But still he reached for the glass, only for it to be pulled away just as his fingers grazed it.

“Ah but, you did insult my cooking. That really did hurt, old friend. After all I did.

Buddy felt irritation well up in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to lash out and scream. To push Mister Drew away. But he couldn’t. Not when some form of  _ salvation _ was just within his reach. So instead, with a raspy voice he uttered “I’m sorry.”

Mister Drew’s smile grew at that. As if those words were exactly what he wanted to hear. And yet the old man still shook his head “I’m afraid just apologizing won’t get you anywhere this time.” He placed the bowl down between them. Once again that inky abomination masking itself as  _ soup _ sat inside. Buddy didn’t think it was possible for his stomach to both crave and reject something. The potatoes and spices would be nice. The ink would not.

“How about that,” Mister Drew pointed to the bowl “For this?” Then back to the water. The ice cubes inside the glass were slowly melting. If Buddy didn’t make a decision soon, the water would grow warm from the stuffy room.

“A bite of this,” Buddy repeated his former boss’s movements. Pointing to the bowl before pointing to the glass “For all of that?”

“No, no,” Mister Drew shook his head, oddly enough remaining rather patient “More than just a bite, Henry. I went through all the trouble of cooking for you  **AGAIN** . The least you can do is eat half the bowl.”

He didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to. The fear of becoming just like Sammy was still fresh. Or what if he ended up like those corpses he and Dot had found in the theater? The ink was tainted. It did...things to people. Things that Buddy didn’t like to think about. And Mister Drew was using it to try and do something to  **HIM** . Perhaps even the whole studio!

“How about this?” His former boss saw the hesitation and pressed forward. Pressing the edge of the glass to Buddy’s lips. He allowed the water to brush against Buddy’s mouth, giving the younger time to slurp up some of the liquid. Then he pulled away. He gave Buddy just a taste. Just enough to wet his whistle. It burned going down, but it was a good sort of burn. One that signaled his aching throat wanted more “There is more where that came from if you just eat.”

It broke him. Immediately it broke him. He’d regret it later. He’d hate himself for going over that edge and allowing Mister Drew to get to him so easily. But in that moment, the only thought that ran through Buddy’s mind was that he wanted  **WATER** . And he wanted  **FOOD** . So with that, he picked up the bowl and stirred up the contents. He wasn’t completely lost in that moment. He didn’t just shove loads of ink masquerading as broth down his throat. He instead tried to scoop up as much as the potato bits as he could, letting ink fall off the edge and back into the bowl.

Mister Drew said nothing of this. No doubt because there was still ink sticking to the potato bits as well as some still on the spoon. Buddy would still be ingesting it, and the young man had to tell himself it was just burnt broth so that he could get it down. Taking that first bite and just trying to focus on the potatoes and few spices. Trying to ignore how thick the ink was as it went down his throat. It left a horrible aftertaste in his mouth and the only thing he could think to do was scoop up more potato bits and try to drown out the taste of tainted ink.

His former boss just watched him with a smile. A smile that slowly morphed into a huge grin. Nodding and looking full of approval with every bite that Buddy took. The younger had to look away eventually. Close his eyes and forget where he was so that he could get down more of the  _ soup _ , seeing as it became harder once he’d finished off the rest of the potato bits. Left with nothing more than just ink and not anywhere close to being halfway done.

He tried to pretend he was at home. That his Ma was in front of him and handing him her fresh tomato soup. That stuff was thick too and Buddy would always eat it too fast. He would always burn his tongue and his Ma would tell him to slow down, that there was more to eat. Never a need to rush. It was a lie though. There was never more to eat, they only ever had enough for two bowls. And sometimes his Ma would try and pass her portion off to him. As much as Buddy loved her soup, he could never take her portions. What sort of son would he be to let his Ma go hungry?

“Henry. Henry!” Buddy’s eyes snapped open, looking down to realize he wasn’t scooping anything from the bowl anymore. It was completely empty. How long had he just been eating air? Why did Mister Drew have to take him away from his daydream? “You ate more than I expected!”

Mister Drew laughed, taking the bowl from Buddy’s hands and replacing it with the water. The younger didn’t hesitate to chug the drink down. Frowning when he emptied it in less than thirty seconds. Though it was refreshing, it didn’t take the taste of ink from his mouth. God, the ink. Shame and regret hit Buddy immediately. Had water been worth it?

“What’s it going to do to me?” He asked suddenly. Even Mister Drew was taken aback by the question “What’s the ink going to do?”

“Ink?” The old man chuckled “What ink?”

Buddy felt his heart drop as he realized he would get no answer and that his former boss would just continue to play dumb. But that didn’t stop him from trying to press on. Even when Mister Drew got up with dishware in hand, Buddy reached out as far as he could and managed to grasp the other’s sleeve. He was practically choking himself with how far he had to lean forward. The ink collar tight around his neck, but he needed to be told something.  **ANYTHING.**

Mister Drew glanced back with a quirked brow. Looking to the fingers latched onto his sleeve then to Buddy. The man said nothing as he waited. Actually giving Buddy the chance to speak rather than be shrugged off. For the moment at least.

“Please.  **PLEASE** . Mister Drew, just tell me why you’re doing this. What are you trying to do?”

The other looked contemplative at first. Tapping his chin with a finger as he looked to be thinking about the matter. Whether or not to keep Buddy in the dark or tell him even the briefest hint of anything. Though breathing was becoming difficult, Buddy did not relent his hold on the other’s sleeve. Fearing that as soon as he let go, Mister Drew would dart out of the room.

“I always wished things were like a cartoon. Where the protagonist would lose a friend and the credits would roll, but come the next showing, they’d be chums again.” Mister Drew started to speak. Even being so generous as to step back towards Buddy and give the younger the chance to lean back and take some deep breaths. He even let Buddy continue to hold onto his sleeve.

“Things are so much easier in a cartoon. You can manipulate things to be how you want. You have a world at your disposal to play with like your toy. I had so many plans for this studio. So many dreams. But then...then my empire started to crumble.”

Buddy felt a chill go up his spine. He didn’t like the way Mister Drew’s voice dropped into something darker. Didn’t like how the older man’s stare turned into a glare. A glare that had been directed at the floor before it fell onto Buddy. The cold look had the younger releasing the man’s sleeve immediately. Pressing himself against the wall to try and put as much distance between himself and Mister Drew as possible. But his former boss did not let him retreat, instead stepping into Buddy’s personal space.

“Because he…because  **YOU** left.” Henry. He was talking about Henry. The old man was utterly delusional. Wanting to chase after a ghost that wasn’t there. Wanting someone in Henry’s place to try and blame. And sadly that fell onto Buddy. He should have just stayed a suit delivery boy.

“Was this not enough for you?” Mister Drew asked, grabbing Buddy by the collar of his shirt and pulling him forward. Enough to cause the ink crafted collar to dig into Buddy’s neck and start to choke him “Was staying here and making our dreams come to life not enough? What was so bad about being here? Working with  **ME?** ”

Buddy didn’t know how to respond. Not with the amount of adrenaline rushing through him on top of the fact he had no clue what Mister Drew wanted him to say. It was starting to become harder to breath. Buddy did the only thing that his panicked mind could think of to do - he pushed. Placed his hands against Mister Drew’s chest and garnering as much strength as he could to shove the other away. It worked, sort of. 

Mister Drew stumbled back, releasing his hold onto Buddy and falling back on his rear. The old man had the gall to look  **SHOCKED** . Buddy took advantage of the other man being stunned though. Taking the chance to back himself up and regain some form of composure. Deep breaths taken to try and reinflate his previously deprived lungs. 

Being nearly strangled was starting to get really annoying.

“I…” Mister Drew started to speak up. Buddy didn’t even bother to look up at the man. Asking questions always seemed to get him hurt or yelled at. Would the old man go so far as to beat Buddy’s head against the wall if he so much as looked at the other the wrong way? 

“I’m sorry, Henry. I got a little too rough there.” Mister Drew started to laugh and shake his head. Coming to stand at full height just so he could tower over Buddy “Just like when we were boys, remember? Always rough housing, but ah, we’re both getting a bit too old for that I think.”

Of course he was trying to play it off and act as if the pair had been playing some sort of game. Buddy couldn’t help but to scowl but kept his thoughts to himself. Continuing to eye the floor. He just wanted the other to leave. Buddy didn’t want to be alone again, but he didn’t want to be in the company of Mister Drew either. It didn’t seem as if his former boss was going to try and force further conversation out of him either. Mister Drew silently picking up the dishware he had discarded earlier and leaving the room. The soft  _ click _ of the lock being the last sound he had made.

Only then did Buddy raise his head and look at the door. Not a single thing he had asked had been answered. His asking of  _ why, why, why _ only being met with the ramblings of an old man stuck in the past. On top of it all, he ate the ink. The damn  **INK.** What was going to happen to him now? He thought about what had become of Sammy Lawrence. How the music director had covered his entire body in ink and began spouting half-baked gospel nonsense about Bendy.

Would Buddy turn into that too? Would he throw himself in a vat of ink? Would he start worshiping some unpopular cartoon character? Or would he become something much worse? He had to make a silent promise to himself to never put that stuff in his mouth again. He had to be strong. He  **HAD** to be.

But he wasn’t. He was just a boy from the slums who thought he’d gotten lucky. When in reality he’d hit the lottery for getting to live through an utter nightmare.

Buddy would sit there in silence for what was no doubt hours at a time. He could never tell if a new day had started or ended. Hell, he didn’t even know when just five minutes had passed. He’d close his eyes and try to bring about happier times. Times with his Ma. The little bit of time he’d had with his grandfather. All the kids back in the slums. 

And every so often he’d be taken from his thoughts. He would hear that soft  _ click _ and the door would open, revealing either Dr. Hackenbush or Mister Drew. The former was better than the latter. Though the doctor provided little conversation and only came by to look at how Buddy’s head wound was healing and give him pain medication, he was still far better company. He did not talk about old days that Buddy never experienced. He didn’t stare at him with feigned expressions or cold eyes. Most important of all - he didn’t call him Henry.

When Mister Drew would come by, it was to deliver the dreaded bowl of the tainted ink. And always he would bring with him a glass of water. It was as if the old man knew the exact moment that Buddy was utterly thirsty. The meals being spread far apart from one another, at least Buddy thought they were. There was no  _ three meals _ a day for him to go off of and keep track of time. Just one every so often and always when Buddy was at his most desperate.

He told himself to be strong after he’d eaten that first bowl of ink. Told himself never again. But he had done it. Again...and again...and again. Mister Drew would tempt him with the water, and Buddy’s throat was so damn dry. He’d always tell himself that just a few bites would satisfy Mister Drew. He would close his eyes and take himself to better times to try and get through it. But when he’d open them again, the entire bowl would be empty. Not a speck of tainted ink in sight. 

Buddy would never remember shoveling any of it in his mouth. And when he’d try to pay attention and keep himself grounded to reality, it was as if his body would act on its own. As if...he  **CRAVED** the ink. And by the fifth bowl of tainted ink masquerading as soup, he realized that he truly did crave it.

When he’d sit in the room alone, he didn’t feel any desire to have the ink. He wasn’t wanting to run out the door and ask everyone he saw about where he could find some. Not like how Sammy had acted. But when the bowl was placed in front of him. When his eyes actually made contact with the ink - it was like he was someone else. As if the cravings kept themselves hidden beneath him until what they desired was finally in their grasp.

And every time after he’d take the last bite, Mister Drew would smile, give him the water and pat his head. Then leave. But not until after he told Buddy some  _ riveting _ story of the past. Ones that always involved Henry. Ones that he would try to  _ remind _ Buddy of, but the younger never knew what to say or what to add to it. Because those weren’t his memories. No matter how many times Mister Drew called him by that name or played his sick game - none of it would ever make him Henry.

“Then you somehow smashed open that hive of hornets! The way you screamed and ran into the pond to get away from them. I nearly broke something from all the laughing I was doing!” 

Another story to listen to. Another one that Buddy didn’t contribute to. Instead he just continued to eat his tainted ink. It was his eighth bowl over...over...well however long he’d been locked up in there. He didn’t take small bites or try and drown out the taste of ink with bits of potato anymore. Hell, there wasn’t even potato in the  _ soup _ at that point! Just globs of the tainted garbage that Buddy couldn’t help but to stuff down his throat. It didn’t even taste like ink anymore, if he were being honest. It tasted...like absolutely nothing. And yet it was the best thing in the world.

“Don’t you remember, Henry?”

Mister Drew smiled at him, waiting for a response. Buddy still didn’t answer. Instead he set down his empty bowl and leaned back against the wall. He took the glass of water that had been set nearby and drank it all in one big gulp before setting that down as well. The water wasn’t even enjoyable or as helpful as it used to be. Buddy didn’t doubt that he was just trying to fool himself into thinking the water was the only reason he still ate the ink. 

His former boss let out a sigh and shook his head, but kept that smile on his face. One that slowly morphed into something softer as he cleaned up the dirty dishware “Hackenbush says those stitches can come out soon. Then I think it’ll be about time for our...well...I suppose you’ll see when it’s time.”

Buddy quirked a brow upward at that. Curiosity suddenly bubbling to the surface. Time? Time for  **WHAT?** There was more to be done than just having Buddy stuff himself with tainted ink? “See what?”

The face Mister Drew made at the sound of his voice. The man’s smile had morphed once again. Nearly stretching from ear to ear as he looked to Buddy “Finally speaking, old friend! I almost thought you forgot how.” He laughed, Buddy didn’t return the gesture “But ah, I can’t just reveal the surprise so soon, now can I?”

Buddy didn’t think that anything he had to say would persuade the other to tell him anything. But fear of the unknown and what was to come next...it had overridden his logic. His reasoning. Fear was the pilot of his emotions once more “Can’t I...can’t I just know something?  **ANYTHING?** You’ve had me hear for...for...I don’t even know how long I’ve been here!” Panic was laced within his tone, his voice cracking as he spoke “You’ve given me ink. You keep calling me Henry. But you don’t tell me  **WHY** . You don’t tell me anything!”

Even in his panicked state, he knew he’d said all the wrong things. He even counted down the seconds as he waited for Mister Drew to lash out, whether with words or his fists. But surprisingly, no such thing came. Instead Mister Drew just stared at him for a few moments. His smile had faded, as expected. But his eyes weren’t filled with ice. They didn’t hold any anger behind them.

In the end, his former boss let out a sigh and set the dishware down. Standing up from the ground with a soft groan “I’m starting to get too old to be sitting on the floor with you, old friend.”

Buddy watched as the other stepped away. But instead of going toward the door, he made way toward the lone table in the room that was off to the side. Once again Buddy had to use his peripheral vision to keep track of Mister Drew, though it wasn’t as if it did him any good. He still couldn’t tell what the old man was fumbling with on the table. Not until he heard the familiar rattle of a chain.

Panic washed over him immediately. The worst case scenarios racing through his mind. The man already had him chained to the wall by the neck. What was next? Chaining his arms? Legs?  **EVERY** part of him? Buddy balled his fist. He still wasn’t the violent type but he couldn’t be strapped down further. He couldn’t keep playing a meek boy that rested under Mister Drew’s thumb.

Buddy raised his arm and prepared to strike out. Fist flying towards his former boss as the man stepped closer. But Mister Drew was no senile old fool, no matter how delusional he seemed to be. The older man easily side stepped Buddy’s weak punch. Even  **LAUGHED** at the younger’s attempt.

“Now, now. Remember what I said about rough housing? Far too old for that. Besides, don’t you want this? I’m sure you’re getting tired of sleeping like that.”

“What?”

Buddy looked up at the other before his eyes fell to the chains in the man’s arms. It was longer than the one he was currently attached to. And Mister Drew was right, Buddy  **WAS** getting tired of sleeping while sitting up. Hell, he was just tired of sitting overall. His back and neck ached due to the confined position they were stuck in. His  _ rest _ wasn’t much seeing as he would constantly wake up. And though staying chained to a wall wasn’t ideal, being attached to a longer chain that at least gave him the option to stand or lay down was...better.

“I’m going to change this out now. Can I trust you not to throw a fuss? Ah! No, of course I can’t.” Mister Drew chuckled but nonetheless stepped closer. The pair never broke eye contact. And Buddy had half a mind to lunge out and try and knock the old man down. But in the end, where would that get him?

He didn’t know if Mister Drew had any sort of key to take off the collar. Hell, Buddy wasn’t even sure if there was a key that could remove the ink from his neck! It could all be for nothing and would just gain him more punishment. And no doubt the loss of having a longer chain and the chance for mobility.

“I’m only trying to help you, old friend. You’re starting to see that aren’t you?” Mister Drew was no fool as he changed out the chains. He connected the longer one to the hook around the wall first, then stuck a lock on it. He then proceeded to do the same to the hook that was on the back of the ink collar. Attach the longer chain end, put another lock on it. Double the security for access to more mobility. Great. 

Only when Mister Drew was sure the longer chain was secure onto Buddy’s collar and the wall did he remove the shorter length chain. Wrapping it around his arm before taking a step back to inspect his work “There we are! Well? Get up and stretch. I’m sure you’ve been dying to for some time now.”

Buddy hesitated at first, waiting for some sort of catch. But the only thing that seemed to accomplish was irritating Mister Drew. The older man growing impatient with the younger’s inactivity. He opened his mouth to say something, no doubt shout, but Buddy didn’t give him the chance to. His hand grasping at the wall behind him as a way to help push himself off the floor. The movement caused Mister Drew to snap his mouth shut and simply watch.

Buddy let out a soft groan as he shakily came to stand. His joints ached and he was sure he heard something in one of his knees crack. But he pushed through to stand at his full height. Stretching out his back and taking a few steps in place to try and ease his body back into actually  **MOVING** again. The longer chain gave him that ability now. It didn’t allow him to walk very far though. Just a few extra paces forward before it was pulled as taut as a chain could be and prevented him from going further. It didn’t even take him halfway across the room. The door was still so far out of reach.

Turning around, he was able to catch a glimpse of the lone table in the room. Able to see the medical devices that were strewn about it. Syringes. Scalpels. String and much more things that Buddy couldn’t list. 

“Yes, I think we finally are able to move on with this.” His attention returned to Mister Drew. He watched as his former boss recollected the dishware and smiled at him. Excitement was behind the other’s eyes. Though Buddy feared just what exactly the man was excited about. He still hadn’t been given an answer as to what was coming next…

Just a longer chain.

“Don’t look so sad, old friend.” Mister Drew came up to stand in front of him. Gave Buddy a pat on the shoulder before continuing to walk towards the door “You’ll see what I’m talking about soon enough.”

The door was opened. The soft  _ click _ of the lock was heard. And once again Buddy was left alone to stew in his own thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

A longer chain made it easier to move around the room. It gave him something to do besides just sit on the floor and wallow in his thoughts and self pity. Now he could do those things **AND** walk around! Such an _ exciting _ new development. And it was the only really new thing that seemed to happen for awhile. Sure, his stitches had finally been taken out. The vet guy having stated the wound had closed enough and declared Buddy no longer needed the bit of string to hold his brains in his head.

But even though the wound had supposedly healed, that didn’t stop Buddy’s head from occasionally throbbing. Feeling around the old wound, he could tell there was a scar there. Parts of the now closed gash now upraised and bulging slightly. When he had asked the doctor if that was a bad thing, the other had shook his head and stated that sometimes scars just heal that way. That was a relief at least. Buddy just hoped that once his hair grew back around the area that the scar would be covered completely. 

Things seemed to remain rather stagnant after that. A _ daily _ routine sort of set in place. At least he thought it was daily. He really couldn’t tell what day or even what time it was in that room. There were no windows or clocks to give him any indication. And it seemed as if both Mister Drew and the doctor were trying to keep him in the dark about it. He recalled trying to ask his former boss a few times what day it was. One time Mister Drew answered by saying it was Tuesday. But Buddy had a feeling he was lying. The next time he saw the other, he asked again what day it was and was told Friday.

That’s how he confirmed Mister Drew was lying to him. Even if it was difficult to keep track of time in there, he knew damn well that three days hadn’t passed from one visit to the next! The other wouldn’t stay away that long unless Buddy irritated him immensely. And the younger hadn’t made such a mistake like that in a very, very long time. So he assumed it was a long time. 

The only real routine things that happened were being given a bowl of ink to eat. Having Mister Drew sit across from him and recount tales of the past. Tales that Buddy **STILL** did not contribute to. Honestly, he never really said anything when Mister Drew came for his _ visits _ . He would just take the bowl and spoon, shovel down his meal and remain silent as his former boss droned on and on. Eventually, he even started to tell stories that he’d already told Buddy before. But the younger never had the _ courage _ to say anything about it. Nor ask about what Mister Drew might have planned next. Ever since getting the longer chain, the other hadn’t spoken of what they were _ moving on _ to. The uncertainty of it all drove Buddy mad at times. And when left to his own devices, he found himself focusing on what was to come far too often.

He’d find himself pacing around the room as much as he could. It was a guarantee by that point that Mister Drew was trying to turn Buddy into some _ amalgamation _ of his old partner. Trying to make the younger into someone from the past. Buddy just wasn’t sure as to **HOW** the older man planned to go about doing so any further. Was the ink meant to help with that? Sure, the stuff was tainted and drove Sammy mad. But so far it hadn’t done anything like that to Buddy. But it had done...other things.

With each bowl it seemed as if his body was losing certain...functions. At first it was just that he wasn’t really thirsty anymore. He’d only ever eaten the ink so that he would be given access to water. But after the...eighth? Ninth bowl? He found himself not really drinking the water that was offered to him. Especially seeing as it was actually starting to **HURT** when going down. Eventually, Mister Drew stopped bringing the glasses of water all together. Just instead offering Buddy the bowls of ink to slurp up.

Honestly, it wasn’t just sips of water that hurt. It was water overall that seemed to sting him! One time Mister Drew had brought Buddy a bucket of water and a wash rag to try and clean himself up. But doing so made his skin tingle and he could barely wipe down his face without feeling as if his skin was sloughing off. And at the end of his little _ freak out _ that accompanied the pain, Mister Drew simply laughed, took the bucket away and said Buddy didn’t need to even wash up. That Buddy didn’t stink at all! And after that comment, he did come to the realization that while his clothes were a little rank, his actual **BODY** wasn’t. He couldn’t even recall the last time he had truly sweat. And he would have thought he’d be doing so all the time what with how stuffy that small room was.

Then came the loss of more _ gross _ functions. Mister Drew used to bring another bucket for Buddy to relieve himself in. It was rather embarrassing to do, but at least his former boss would leave the room. But eventually those functions went away too. He didn’t need to drink, or really eat. Didn’t sweat. Didn’t have to go to the bathroom. Things that **PEOPLE** needed to do - he didn’t. It wasn’t almost like...almost like he wasn’t human anymore.

And that was another thing he was left to stew up. Left to pace around the room and ask himself what the ink had done. It hadn’t driven him mad, but it almost felt as if that would have been the better option. Because at least he’d still be human...right?

He had to believe that. And had to believe that maybe, just maybe, whatever the ink had done to him could be reversed. Because it was just ink wasn’t it? Even if it was tainted, some doctor out there had to know how to treat what was no doubt some form of _ poisoning _ . And by doctor, he meant a **REAL** doctor. Not some vet that came around every so often to give him a pain medication and then walk out to go see the sick puppy of some family.

Being left with his thoughts and questioning what was going to happen next was taking its toll on him. A lot of what was going on was wearing him down. And even Mister Drew eventually saw that. Goading Buddy to try and talk during the few times he came around. And in the beginning Buddy had offered **A FEW** words to drive on the conversation, just a little bit. But as time went on he was growing quiet and despondent. Eating his ink and curling up under his chain whenever his former boss would enter the room. 

So something had to change, didn’t it? And eventually Mister Drew had decided it was time.

\----------

_ Do I hate you Henry Stein? Sort of. I mean, I try not to. I know what happened to me isn’t your fault. But a part of me can’t help but hate you. Maybe it’s because I sort of am you now? Maybe it’s because throughout all of this I started to hate myself and the fact I didn’t put up as much of a fight as I should have. _

_ So hating myself made me hate you. _

_ But out of everyone, I hate Mister Drew the most. Why wouldn’t I? _

** _I hate him too, don’t worry._ **

_ You haven’t seen him in years, how can you hate him as much as I do? _

** _You hate him. So I hate him. _ **

_ __________ _

_ ________ _

_ __________ _

_ You know, Dot. I don’t remember writing some of these words. Flipping through all this paper there are some pages I really just don’t remember writing on. There are some drawings I don’t remember doing either. Were these me? Or maybe him? The him that’s with me, that is. Not the _ ** _REAL_ ** _ him. _

_ I’m losing my mind down here, Dot. I mean I probably lost it awhile back ago but I’m really losing it here. I’m starting to question if I really am Buddy anymore. No, I know you’d tell me not to do that. Not to let someone like Mister Drew win. _

_ But what am I supposed to do when stuck down here with just the demon? _

\----------

The next time Mister Drew came around, he held something in his hand. Upon looking closer, it seemed to be an older model audio log. The first thing Buddy thought was that it was going to be used to play some of his former boss’s stories on **REPEAT** . Surely Mister Drew was growing tired of telling tales to someone that didn’t contribute to them at all. But no doubt he still wanted to _ torture _ Buddy with those repeating stories that the young man knew already from beginning to end. What better way to do that then to record them all on an audio log and make them play over and over and **OVER** again?

“I have a few gifts for you, Henry.” The older man chuckled, slowly lowering himself down to the floor. Buddy didn’t miss how difficult it was becoming for the other to sit on the floor with each visit. Mister Drew was definitely starting to show his age. He even seemed to have a few more gray hairs than he did last time.

Buddy’s eyes went from the other’s face and down to where the audio log was now placed - right in front of him. Older model, sure. But it didn’t take a genius to know what each of the symbols on the buttons meant. Start. Stop. Rewind. Fast forward. And Record.

“Well, go ahead.” Mister Drew pushed the device just the slightest bit closer. Buddy honestly didn’t even want to touch it but knew not doing so would just anger the other. Though he wasn’t sure what his former boss could keep from him anymore. Buddy never really felt any _ hunger _ or _ thirst _ like he used to. And he only craved the ink when it was placed before him. Really, all Mister Drew could do was beat him to a pulp and continue to deny him freedom. 

In the end, he hit _ play _ on the audio log. Being smacked around like he had been back in the theater wasn’t high on his list after all. And once the gears in the device started working, the voice that filled the room wasn’t one Buddy could say he recognized. A soft yet tired sounding voice. One that talked about starting a company with Joey Drew. One that talked about not having seen _ Linda _ for days now. It immediately clicked with him who the recording was of.

_ Henry. _

And such a thing was confirmed by the tape itself a moment later:

_ Just keep drawing, _ ** _HENRY._ **

There was then something about a new character, and the tape was done. The audio log making a click sound before silence filled the room yet again. Buddy dared to glance up at Mister Drew, a confused look on his face. Unsure of why the other was playing some tape made by his old friend. Honestly it was creepy that he even still had the tape to begin with. Talk about an inability to let go.

Mister Drew’s face was unreadable at first. His eyes were still downcast on that audio log. And soon his expression went from unreadable to angry. Then a moment later he was taking a deep breath before looking up at Buddy with that _ winning _ smile. One that Buddy had learned by now was utterly fake and full of false promises.

“See how much your voice has changed since then, old friend?” He asked with a laugh. Ah, still playing that sort of game. Of course. Buddy couldn’t help but to let out a sigh as he leaned back against the wall. Just another day of having his crazed former boss try and turn him into a man Buddy would never be.

“But, don’t worry, I think with some practice and listening to this tape a few times,” He tapped the audio log with his finger. The smile on his face stretching from ear to ear. But even then, it was still a fake one. A sort of smile that Mister Drew was trying to hold in place despite how his own face protested the strain. The sort of smile that Buddy used to believe in “You’ll be back to those old sultry pipes in no time!”

Wait, Mister Drew expected him now to even **SOUND** like Henry? Buddy was barely an artist, much less a voice actor. He didn’t have any sort of ability to change his voice on a whim. But Mister Drew didn’t seem to care about that, once again hitting the play button on the audio log and allowing the **REAL** Henry’s voice to fill the room.

“Now listen to your old voice and learn, Henry. You’ll pick back up on it.”

Buddy didn’t want to listen to it. He didn’t want to hear the voice of a clearly exhausted man. A man that Mister Drew had no doubt worked to the bone and driven away. A man that had no doubt been the true brains behind the studio, at least if what Norman had told him all those days ago was to be believed. Buddy was snapped from his thoughts as the _ click _ of the audio log bounced off the walls of the room again. Mister Drew was looking at him hopeful, making a _ come on _ sort of hand gesture once the tape was finished “Well, give it a go.”

He hoped the other was prepared for disappointment. On top of the fact that Henry’s voice was far lower than Buddy’s, there was also the fact Buddy’s throat was dry. He couldn’t drink water without it hurting. And Mister Drew hadn’t brought any ink to _ quench _ him. No doubt his voice would be scratchy and a bit hoarse. Especially since it had been some time since he’d really talked, save for mumbling to himself when no one was around.

“What am I supposed to say?” He questioned first, in **HIS** voice. Not even bothering trying to attempt Henry’s. That made the sides of Mister Drew’s lips twitch slightly. His smile falling just the tiniest of bit before he rebounded back with words of _ encouragement _.

“Say what you did on the tape, of course! Or you could tell a story about what we used to do in our youth. The little devil knows I’m just repeating myself by this point with the ones I tell. Perhaps you remember something different.”

Well, Buddy didn’t have any stories of their _ youth _ to tell Mister Drew. Seeing as he hadn’t even been born when his boss was a child. So...the tape it was. He tried to recall some of the things he’d heard the other say. He didn’t think Mister Drew would be pleased to have the first part of the tape repeated back to him. Talking about how the old man was just a man of ideas and nothing else. Nor did he think Mister Drew would want to hear the line about Linda. Seeing as he’d called that woman a _ battle axe _ and spoke of her with distaste in his tone before.

So, the last line it was. And his attempt to copy Henry’s voice was utterly horrendous.

“I’ve got a new character I think…” Ah, what was the rest? Oh yeah! “I think people will love.”

He couldn’t lower his range to the same level as Henry’s. And again, his throat was dry. There were a few cracks in his tone when he spoke. But despite the failure of his attempt, Mister Drew kept that smile on his face.

“It’s ‘people **ARE** going to love.’ Not will love. But ah, you’ll get that voice of yours back with some practice, old friend.”

The correction made Buddy wonder just how many times Mister Drew had listened to that tape. Made him wonder just how obsessed the old man was with his old business partner. Well, clearly he had to be over the top obsessed if he was trying to use someone else to recreate Henry. But it left Buddy to wonder if it was **JUST** an obsession that made the other craft such a plan. After all, if Mister Drew succeeded, where did he hope to go from there? He couldn’t pass Buddy off as his business partner _ Henry Stein _. No one in the studio would believe it, especially seeing as there was still a Henry out there. And no doubt the real one would come storming in and demand to know what was going on if he heard about his own name being in the credits of the newer Bendy cartoons. 

Actually, it might be nice for the real Henry to come back. Maybe he would deck Mister Drew in the face and give Buddy the opportunity to escape. But such a dream was just that - a dream. There was no one coming to save him. It was doubtful that there was anyone that knew he was even there, save for Mister Drew and the vet. As far as anyone knew, according to Mister Drew, Buddy Lewek was **DEAD**. 

“Now I _ expect _ you to practice every chance you get, Henry.” Despite the smile on the other’s face, the tone he held was threatening. A _ do it or else _ sort of tone that left Buddy wondering what the _ or else _ could be. Perhaps another hit to the head with a dustpan? Surely the vet would ** LOVE** to stitch up Buddy’s head yet again. Or perhaps Mister Drew would just grow tired of the disobedience and feed him to that inky Bendy looking thing. If that thing was even still around.

He supposed he’d learn what the punishment would be eventually. Seeing as he doubted he’d be able to mimic Henry’s voice any time soon. It made way for a sort of fear. Fear of what would happen if he didn’t accomplish everything that Mister Drew wanted him to. _ Funny _ how the only thing he had to be scared of in the past was being fired. Now he had to worry about being beaten or killed.

“We should move onto our next set of business I suppose. I do have a meeting with the police chief to get to after all. Lawrence’s family is **STILL** going on about his disappearance and wanting answers.” Mister Drew rolled his eyes as he dug around for something in the pocket of his suit jacket “But I suppose it wouldn’t look good on me or the company if I didn’t help in some way, right?”

It was despicable hearing him talk. No doubt he knew what had happened to Sammy. He **HAD** to have known. And either he had killed the music director or hid him away somewhere. Wouldn’t want those _ high class _ investors knowing that the studio was poisoning employees with its ink after all. Really would put a damper in the studio’s stock. The thought of it all made Buddy scowl. But his former boss didn’t seem to care what Buddy’s thoughts were on the whole thing. Moving the conversation along as he produced what looked like a piece of folded paper from his pocket. Once it was unfolded, Buddy realized it was actually a photo.

Mister Drew seemed to look over the contents of the photo fondly before he held it out for Buddy to take. The younger hesitated for a moment, but the instant he saw Mister Drew’s smile twitch, he took the photo. Glancing it over and easily being able to tell who was in it.

On the right was whom he presumed to be a younger version of Mister Drew. The photo was black and white and a little grainy but even then Buddy could tell that his former boss didn’t have a single gray hair nor wrinkle in sight. Had a good set of facial hair on him too. He definitely seemed to keep up with some sort of care for his moustache into his old age. 

To the left was whom he could only assume was Henry. And God, Buddy wasn’t one to find a fancy in men, but Henry was a **STUNNING** fellow. Short yet he had broad shoulders and looked like he could fight a bull and win. A full head of wavy, brown hair and a goatee on his chin to match. Glasses that sat perfectly on his face. He was the picture perfect example of a _ model _ man. Most importantly though, Buddy noticed, was that Henry looked full of **LIFE**. He didn’t seem tired like he had sounded in the tape. He actually looked hopeful. Both of them did.

Just two young men. Arms around each other and smiling. A sign behind them reading _ Joey Drew Studios _. Buddy had to wonder if the picture was taken the first day of the studios opening. How had everything gone so wrong in such a small amount of time? How had Mister Drew broken his friend into exhaustion in a matter of weeks?

“Weren’t we so young back then, Henry?” Mister Drew asked with a chuckle. His smile had fallen just ever so slightly. And for a moment, he almost looked tired himself.

Buddy ignored his question though, and glanced back down at the picture. **THAT** was who Mister Drew expected him to become? Well, his former boss would have a lot of work ahead of him if that was the case. After all, Buddy and Henry had more differences than similarities. For instance, where Henry was short and wide in stature, Buddy was tall and thin as a stick. Henry had a chiseled jawline. Buddy just had a jaw. Mister Drew must have been more delusional than he first believed if he thought Buddy would ever look anything like that. No amount of surgery would make him Henry. No amount of listening to some old tape. No amount of ink. Wait...the ink couldn’t change him like that...could it?

No, no of course it couldn’t. Buddy kept telling himself that he was just poisoned. That no doubt the functions of his body were just being taken away due to how the ink was affecting his organs. But there was no way the stuff could change him into an entirely different person. He **HAD** to keep telling himself that. He had to believe that he would always be Buddy.

He was pulled from his thoughts and fears when the photo was plucked from his hands. Mister Drew having taken it back and folded it up before placing it back in his jacket pocket. The photo was now replaced by scissors and a razor. Buddy couldn’t help but to quirk a brow at the items. Were they going to do arts and crafts now? The thought brought **SOME** humor to him. But not enough to really uplift his spirits. Especially because he knew his little _ joke _ wouldn’t be the reality.

“We’ll have you back to your old, strapping self in no time!” Mister Drew declared as he picked up the scissors and razor “Now turn around.”

“Turn around?” Buddy questioned, which in turn made Mister Drew frown.

“Now Henry, weren’t we just talking about getting your old voice back? Remember how I talked about _ practicing? _”

That threatening tone was back. Deepening his voice hurt his dry throat but he knew there was no point in arguing with his captor. Especially seeing as a sore throat would hurt far less than a stab wound from a pair of scissors. At least he assumed Mister Drew would stab him if he didn’t comply. 

“Why... “ Buddy tried to clear his throat by coughing into his hand. Trying to mimic Henry’s voice wasn’t going to come easy to him and he thanked God that Mister Drew had some sanity in him left to realize that “Why do I need to turn around?”

“For your haircut of course! My old friend isn’t **BLOND** now is he?”

Buddy raised a hand up and ran it through his hair. His fingers nearly got caught in one of the various tangles that had made a mess of his head. What he wouldn’t do for a hair brush right now “But a haircut won’t…”

“Oh, hush, hush. I know what I’m doing. Now, are you going to turn around?” Yet again Mister Drew’s tone was laced with a threat. Buddy didn’t argue nor question the other further, relenting as he turned around to face the wall. Mister Drew didn’t hesitate to scoot closer and start his _ work _ . A moment later Buddy saw **CHUNKS** of his hair hitting the floor. Wincing at one point when Mister Drew cut too close to the scalp and nicked his skin.

“You’ll have to bear a cold head for a little bit, Henry. But your new hair should be in soon! That puppet guy is useful for more than just making puppets.”

He laughed as if they were sharing a joke. But they weren’t. There was nothing funny about Mister Drew cutting away his hair. Nothing funny about how much it hurt when he took the razor and left multiple cuts in Buddy’s scalp as he tried to do away with the patches of blond hair left. The younger had to bite his lip to prevent himself from crying out. But he couldn’t stop himself from wincing each time it would happen, and every time Mister Drew would scold him and tell him to remain still.

After a few minutes and a few more cuts, the other was pulling away. Buddy didn’t dare move as Mister Drew got up from the ground and made his way for the table off in the corner. Discarding the scissors and razor onto it before picking up a rag and tossing it in Buddy’s direction “All done! Now that wasn’t so bad was it?”

The older man picked up a dustpan, which made Buddy wince again. But instead of beating in the younger’s head with it, he used it to clean up the hair that was now all over the floor. He wouldn’t be able to get it all and he didn’t seem to care about the hair that stuck to Buddy’s clothes. But he got most of the clumps and discarded them and the dustpan back onto the table. The vet would ** _LOVE_ ** to see that mess once he came back around, Buddy was sure of that.

“When I come back again, I’ll have another set of clothes for you. The ones you have now could use a washing, old friend. I’ll have a few other things for you too!” Mister Drew declared. He didn’t even bother to spare Buddy a glance as he made his way for the door “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a _ date _ with the police chief.”

\----------

_ It was sort of...scary...what came next. I never would have thought the ink could do the things it did to me. And at that time I really thought all it had done was make people like Sammy go mad and cover himself in ink. _

_ He didn’t do that though. He _ ** _WAS_ ** _ ink, Dot. Through and through, that was what he was. Like I am now. Back then in that room, I didn’t realize that the ink was doing more than just poisoning me. I mean it _ ** _WAS_ ** _ poisoning me but it was also doing something more. Changing me from the inside. _

_ Mister Drew took on the task of changing me on the outside. _

_ And by God’s name, Dot. I hope you never have to go through that sort of pain. _

\----------

“It’s here!”

Mister Drew loudly declared as he burst into the room. Buddy’s eyes opened immediately and his heart was beating a mile a minute, having been snapped out of something akin to _ sleep _. He looked to the older man in surprise, but Mister Drew just smiled and held something in his hands. Upon calming down slightly, and upon further inspection, Buddy noticed that it was a wig.

_ Oh. _ Well he had been wondering when he’d get his hair back. Even if it really wasn’t his hair.

After the whole _ haircut _ thing, Mister Drew didn’t come around as often. Or really...at all. It was usually the vet and only the vet. The first time Hackenbush came back into the room he had taken a look at Buddy’s scalp and shook his head. Compared Mister Drew to a butcher before he gave something to Buddy to rub on his fresh cuts. Gave him some more pain medicine and then took his leave. Two more times he brought Buddy a bowl of ink before he’d be off again. Never really saying a word and never really giving the younger a chance to say anything either.

It was...rather lonely. And as much as Buddy hated to say it he almost missed Mister Drew’s constant talking and those endless stories. All he really had was time to himself. The only other voice he was able to hear being Henry’s from the audio log. He’d probably listened to that same tape about...twenty times? Give or take. He could recite it from beginning to end and vice versa.

And dare he say, he was getting better at the whole mimicking someone’s voice thing. Not enough to be one of those actor types and he knew he sure as Hell was no where close to sounding like Henry dead on. But Buddy liked to think he had improved on deepening his voice without straining his throat too much. His pride in that was short lived though as it made way for upset. After all, doing something that his captor wanted shouldn’t have made him proud. But when it was really all he had to do...he really wasn’t left with a choice.

Sit there in complete silence while staring at a wall? Or listen to the guy your former boss wanted you to be and practice your voice acting? Well, both options honestly stunk. But at least the latter gave him something to occupy his time.

“It’s fresh off the presses! Or whatever it is they use to make wigs.” Mister Drew brought Buddy back to reality as he came closer. The wig did look brand, spanking new. And it looked to have been stylized too. Buddy could only guess just _ whose _ hair it had been styled to resemble. The fact that it was brown was a dead giveaway.

“And good, I won’t need to do any touch-ups to that bald head of yours.” The older man laughed as he rubbed the top of Buddy’s head. Now that the other mentioned it...Buddy’s hair really hadn’t grown back in the slightest now had it?

Sure, it hadn’t been **SUPER** long since the whole haircut thing, at least he didn’t think it had been. But surely a few patches might have grown back, right? Buddy reached a hand up to feel around and found that his head was still a lumpy and scabbed up mess. That the only patches up top were ones that had been there before. And they certainly hadn’t gotten any bigger. Had...did the ink make it so he couldn’t grow hair anymore either?

“Now, we have a lot to do today. I cancelled all of my meetings and sent staff home early **JUST** for this. I can’t have you attracting people with the ruckus you’ll make after all.” 

Mister Drew droned on as he made way for the lone table in the room and gently placed the wig down on it. Exchanging it for a small piece of leather that he soon brought back over to Buddy and placed in the younger’s hands.

“R-ruckus?” The younger questioned, not liking how Mister Drew was speaking. He couldn’t even bring himself to talk with his _ Henry _ voice due to the anxiety and fear that was starting to build up.

But his former boss let that slide as he sat down and gave Buddy a wide grin. That usual ear-to-ear smile. But for once it wasn’t fake. For once it was **REAL**. And incredibly demented looking. So wide that it made Mister Drew’s eyes seem smaller in comparison. So wide that it almost reminded Buddy of that damn cartoon devil that his former boss loved so much.

“Well,” His tone sounded gentle for a moment, but Buddy knew that wouldn’t last “What I have planned today will be a little...intense. But it’s all for the greater good, Henry. To get you back to your old self. To get you back to the state in which our creations will recognize you.”

He didn’t understand what that meant. _ Their _creations? Last he had checked, there were no cartoon devils or angels or wolves running around the studio. That inky freak in the theater didn’t count. And besides, there was a high chance that thing was dead. Maybe. Buddy hoped at least.

But he was less so focusing on the creations bit and more so focusing on the _ intense _ part. Just what did Mister Drew intend to do to try and make Buddy look more like Henry? Did he intend to chop his legs off to make him shorter? Did he plan to put Buddy on a rack and stretch him out from the sides in hopes it would make him wider? Maybe take a nail file to his jaw and sharpen it?

At this point, he expected really anything from Mister Drew. But expecting it didn’t mean he didn’t **FEAR** it immensely. Especially seeing as the next _ step _ in the plan seemed to involve a bit of pain. Why else would the other hand him a piece of leather unless it was being used to bite down on? Buddy wasn’t dumb after all, he’d heard of this sort of thing. Georgie from back in the slums used to talk about the time when his uncle’s infected finger had to be cut off. How his uncle had told Georgie’s dad to give him a piece of leather to bite on and then take the finger off with a quick slice. They hadn’t had money to go to a doctor after all and apparently just removing the finger was the _ better _ option.

Georgie’s uncle died two weeks later. But that really wasn’t important right now. The point was that Buddy knew what the leather was used for and that Mister Drew handing it to him didn’t spell out anything good. 

“What are you going to do to me?” He questioned once again in his normal voice. Fear clearly laced within his tone. His heart felt as if it may burst through his chest what with all the anticipation. Mister Drew had enough _ sympathy _ in him to give Buddy a pitying look. But it was gone as quickly as it came. Instead making way for that stupid smirk.

“Just making a few changes is all. If you cooperate, it will be quick! It just requires a bit of pushing and pulling. Don’t worry, Henry. I know how to work with the ink and mold it into what I desire. Have some faith, old friend.” Mister Drew brought out that old picture again. Studying it before placing it down onto the floor next to him. A few times he would glance back and forth between Buddy and the photo. But eventually he settled his eyes directly on the former.

“I suppose we’ll start with the body first. The head and face is always the hardest part to put together.” He mumbled under his breath and motioned for Buddy to place the leather in his mouth. The younger didn’t move at all. And that did not make Mister Drew happy in the slightest. Eyes narrowing as he once again made the same gesture from before “I suggest you put that in your mouth unless you want to bite your tongue off. Which is a **HIGH** probability with all of the ink running through you, right now.”

Buddy was positive his heart rate was hitting triple digits now. All...all of the ink? Well, yes, there was no doubt there was still some ink lingering around in his body since it was all he’d had to _ eat _ . And any bodily functions he had to get rid of waste in his body had stopped working awhile back ago. But...but there really couldn’t be **THAT** much coursing through him, right? And if there was, why would it matter anyway? Why-

“I may have cancelled my meetings. But I don’t have time to wait on you, Henry,” Mister Drew took him from his thoughts with a scowl on his face. Reaching out and grasping Buddy’s right leg with a grip that shouldn’t be allowed for someone of his age “So if you want to make this difficult. We can make it difficult.”

Mister Drew placed his other hand on the bottom of Buddy’s foot. And before the younger could even react a **SEARING** pain ran through him as Mister Drew pushed up on his foot. He heard something ** _CRACK_ ** within his leg. He felt something moving inside of him, under the skin. Worst of all he physically watched as with a simple push, Mister Drew was able to shorten his leg. The pain from the action running up all the way into his hip as he felt bones trying to burst through his skin from the inside. But no skin broke. No blood was drawn. But what had come out of Buddy was a very loud scream. He hadn’t even realized he’d been screaming until Mister Drew placed a forceful hand over his mouth. The man’s scowl had only grown. He practically was glaring daggers at the younger.

“I told you it would hurt. I **WARNED** you. And you didn’t listen, Henry. You rarely do these days and I’m getting tired of it.” He squeezed the sides of Buddy’s face with his boney fingers before letting go. And Buddy hated the fact that it felt as if the man had left **DENTS** in his face “And now look what you’ve made me do! I’m going to have to fix that too once we’re all done with this mess.”

He gestured to Buddy’s now uneven legs. His right one was nearly half the length of his left. The end of the trousers on that side actually went to his ankle as opposed to just his knee. It was...sickening to see. And Buddy nearly wanted to throw up. The whole extremity was somehow both numb and yet throbbing with pain. And though no bones poked through the skin, he could tell his hip bone was protruding outward, even from under his trousers. It was sickening to look at in just that view. He could only imagine how disgusting it would look without the trousers. Actually no, he didn’t want to imagine. It only upset his stomach further.

“People may not be here. But I don’t need you screaming and attracting _ other _ things. Not yet, anyway.” Mister Drew snatched the leather from Buddy’s hand and soon forced it between his teeth. Buddy didn’t dare remove it either. During his screaming episode he must have bit something inside his mouth. The inner left side of his mouth was _ bleeding _ and he had to wonder if he had taken a chunk out of it. Though it frightened him that he tasted **INK** rather than blood.

“So sit still,” He grasped Buddy’s left leg now “And let me finish.” Another push upward and Buddy threw his head back against the wall and screamed. Biting down on the leather so hard he was surprised he hadn’t bitten right through it. Having his leg pushed in once didn’t make it any easier the second time. Especially seeing as it felt as if Mister Drew was applying more force than before. It actually took a few tries for the older man to get the left leg where he wanted it. Both men were sweating and breathing heavily. Though Mister Drew was just trying to catch his breath from all the _ work _ he was doing. Buddy just hadn’t had time to breath in between the screaming and biting down on the bit of leather.

“There,” Mister Drew said in between breaths. Wiping at some of the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. That damned smile back on his face “The legs are all done. They’ll eventually settle into the correct place as the bones heal. But for now, walking is definitely not on the table.”

Tears pricked at the edges of Buddy’s eyes. When he raised a hand to wipe them away, he wasn’t even surprised when ink stained his hand and not actual clear tears. God. Oh God. He really was ink now, wasn’t he? That tainted stuff had done more than just poison his body. Had done more than take away basic functions. It was **PART** of him now. Even while sitting there in utter pain, he could come to that conclusion.

“Now, now. Buck up. Men like us don’t cry when we get knocked down.” Mister Drew said as he placed a hand on Buddy’s shoulder. And honestly, that broke the camel's back.

Buddy didn’t even register what he was doing until his fist collided with the side of his former boss’s face. Mister Drew fell back onto his rear and raised a hand to his cheek in surprise. Both men seemed to share the look before Buddy came to his senses and spit the leather out of his mouth.

“Men like us? Men like ** _US?_ **”

He wasn’t one to lose his cool. He wasn’t one to be hysterical. He’d had his moments of panic. Of fear. Of questionable decisions. But he never grew violent unless attacked first. He never shouted unless to warn someone of something. But after everything he’d been through while working in that studio, he figured he was allowed at least one moment to lose it.

“I’m nothing like you! I don’t...I don’t make promises and break them. I don’t...I don’t take people against their will and...and do whatever this is.” He gestured to the entirety of him. To the bald head he now sported that would soon make room for some stupid wig. To the now shortened legs that took away his previous height. To the clothes that smelled musty and didn’t fit him because they weren’t his.

“And Henry...the **REAL** Henry...he couldn’t have been like this either! No one smart enough to leave someone like...like you could ever do something like **THIS!**”

Inky tears were running down his cheeks, both from the many emotions running through him as well as the searing pain that ran up and down his legs. Mister Drew just seemed to look stunned at first. Still holding the side of his face. No doubt trying to think of some sort of response to the younger man’s outburst. 

But eventually Buddy would have to pay the price. And eventually Mister Drew came back to reality. Eyes were narrowed again. A scowl came to his face. He didn’t laugh like he had the first time Buddy had punched him back in the theater. Now he just looked downright **FURIOUS** . Straightening himself out but not laying a hand on the younger. Perhaps he was just _ worried _ about denting Buddy’s face again? 

“I see you are just going to keep making this more difficult.” His tone was a dangerous one. Mister Drew rose from the floor and straightened out his suit jacket before he walked over to the table with all of the supplies “And I can’t have you throwing a punch every time I try to _ fix _you.”

Buddy momentarily saw the older man pick up that familiar syringe before he tossed it back onto the table “And I can’t let you get away with such a punch! I didn’t in our youth and I certainly won’t now.” He kept picking up items and putting them back down. Each one made Buddy run cold. Anxiety over which one would be used against him. But despite the anxiety and fear, he didn’t regret what he’d done. Mister Drew had it coming. And Buddy was tired of letting things happen to him without a fight.

What would Dot think of him if he one day got out of there and she found out he did nothing to stop what had been done to him? She’d be disappointed no doubt. But she’d still have some sympathy for him, right? She was his friend after all. And if anyone could help him heal from that entire mess once he was out, it would be her.

And Ma. And grandfather. Thinking of them all again made the inky tears run harder. Thinking of them distracted him from Mister Drew. Distracted him from seeing his former boss finally take up something in his hands and bringing it over toward Buddy. It wasn’t until the object was colliding with the side of Buddy’s face and sending him sprawling on the floor that he’d come back to his senses. Memories of Dot and his family going back to the corners of his mind. Taken away by the pain shooting through his skull. His now very dented skull. Even without reaching up he could tell his skull had been forced in. And would be again as Mister Drew brought his chosen object down on Buddy once more. It was the dustpan all over again - only now the dustpan was replaced by a crowbar. Buddy catching a glimpse of it between his darkening vision as he glanced up at his former boss with fear in his eyes. 

What the Hell had a crowbar been doing mixed in with medical supplies to begin with?

Sad how that was his last thought before Mister Drew brought the crowbar down on him a third time. Buddy only managed to catch a few words before his mind shut itself off and everything went dark.

“So much work…”

“...I’ll fix…”

“Don’t worry.”

“...Henry…”

\----------

_ You know what’s funny about all of this? I actually never really even liked Bendy. I knew who he was when I started working at the studio, at least a little bit. I managed to catch the ending run of his comic strip career when I was a kid. But those comics ended for a reason. They were just plain bad. And I never really liked the cartoons that played before the movies either. _

_ One old guy told me they used to actually be good back when they first started. Then they just got repetitive. Was that because you left, Henry? _

** _Probably. Joey had ideas. But he didn’t always know how to implement them in the best way. _ **

_ He doesn’t know how to really do anything in the best way. Except when it comes to making nightmares and abominations. He’s an expert at that. _

** _I’m sorry, Buddy._ **

_ I’m not Buddy. I’m Henry. Just like you. _

\----------

He woke up numb and in pain. He woke up unable to move. Every inch of him felt off. Every inch of him hurt. Upon waking up he was immediately crying. Had he ever stopped even when he’d been knocked out? He couldn’t feel the dents that Mister Drew had left on the side of his head. But his face still felt different. Upon opening his eyes he saw less of him than what had been there before.

He already knew his legs had been shortened, and nothing about them had changed. But now his arms were shorter as well. The cuffs of his shirt reaching his wrists rather than his forearms. Speaking of his shirt, he was wearing a different one now. As well as new trousers and a rather slick pair of shoes. But the clothes weren’t anything for him to really focus on. Nor did he care about them. Buddy tried to raise his right hand but it didn’t move. He tried to raise his left. It didn’t move. His legs didn’t respond to him either. They just remained stagnant and throbbing. His bones felt as if they wanted to pop out from under his skin. 

The next thing he noticed was the wig sitting on top of his head. He couldn’t raise his hands to pull it off nor even just touch it. He only knew it was in place due to the bangs of it slightly falling over his eyes as well as the fact it sat heavy on his head. Buddy had little energy to shake his head enough to throw it off either, instead just letting the stupid thing sit in place. For now at least. Until he could move again.

He knew something had been done to his face as well. Mister Drew had spoken of doing something to it after all. And Buddy could only guess his former boss had done something to make Buddy’s features resemble Henry’s. He wasn’t looking forward to looking in a mirror and seeing the damage. He wasn’t looking forward to standing and seeing how closer he was now to the ground. Hell, he wasn’t looking forward to any of the pain that might come with any sort of movement.

“Ma...Dot…” He called out weakly. He was starting to sob now. Buddy was never one to blubber like a lost child, but for his circumstances, he gave himself a pass. Everything bubbling up within him all at once, just like it had when he’d grown angry. Only now instead of anger, it was despair. It was the sort of emotion that could only be released through crying. And normally shedding tears was supposed to make someone feel better. But Buddy knew that once he was done, he wouldn’t feel any better. He’d still be locked in that tiny room. He’d still be a prisoner of Joey Drew. And he’d still be on the _ fast track _ to becoming Henry Stein.

“Ma...Dot…” He called again, though he knew no one was coming for him. No matter how hard he cried. No matter how loud he yelled. He was alone.

“Somebody...please help me…”


End file.
